On the Border
by velociraptor52
Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester go to Las Vegas, where Sam runs into someone who's not entirely human. AngelSupernatural crossover. One shot. Please R & R!


_**On the Border**_

A/N: Title is from an Eagles song.

Disclaimer: Eric Kripke owns Supernatural and Dean and Sam Winchester (and he's doing a pretty good job with them) and Joss Whedon owns Lorne.

Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester go to Las Vegas, where Sam runs into someone who's not entirely human. Angel/Supernatural crossover (and a little Monk shout-out). Takes place during the episode Everybody Loves a Clown before that 'One Week Later' sign and after Dean and Sam burn John's body.

As for Angel, this takes place after the series finale Not Fade Away (but the big apocalypse didn't happen).

Note: This is a one-shot story.

-

Las Vegas had never been brighter to Dean Winchester, who marveled at the glorious lights and the blinking marquees. Traffic was congested, so while Dean inched the "soccer mom van" (that's what he called it every time he complained about it) further every three minutes, he took the time to look out his window at the tall buildings that craned over the narrow streets of Vegas.

"Dude, it's like Christmas!" he exclaimed, looking to his brother. "No wonder Dad didn't take us here before."

Sam snorted, grinning like mad. Only Dean would compare Las Vegas to Christmas. "Um…no, Dean. Dad just never took us because he was afraid you'd hit on all the waitresses and gamble away most of the little amount of money we have."

Dean waved his hand, instantly regretting starting a conversation with Sam. "Whatever. The point is we finally made it to Las Vegas. Now how 'bout a little fun, huh?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed, the grin vanishing from his lips and the light from his eyes. Dean knew that look: Sam was going to get serious. "It's been what, a day? Three days maybe since Dad die? And what? You just want to have a little R and R? Dean—"

"R and R? What's that stand for?" Dean suddenly interrupted.

_The question of an uneducated mind. Or maybe he wants to change the subject. _"It stands for rest and relaxation, Dean," Sam answered, and then added as an afterthought, "Or, in your case, rest and sex. And try not to change the subject."

"You're just exaggerating. I mean, I don't hook up with every girl we run across. In fact, I seem to remember a few times that girls hit on you."

Sam had to admit that was true, yet he also knew that the relationships either ended badly or just ended. In fact, some never bloomed at all, and it was usually the girls who would be coming onto Sam. He had always been partial to Jessica, and, even though she died, she always would be, and Sam knew that would mean turning down a few choice girls.

"So what do you say?" Dean asked, breaking the silence.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. What about Bobby?"

"Listen, Bobby was the one who sent us here in the first place. I mean, what with his thinking that we were too cooped up and that we needed to get out, well…I'm just about starting to agree with him. It is okay to have fun once and a while, you know? So what do you say?" Dean repeated.

Rather reluctantly, Sam nodded. "All right. We can stay."

"All right!"

_Uh-oh. _"But no gambling away our money."

"But I could win more money for us, Sam, just by gambling."

"And you could also lose some, Dean. A lot. Don't you know these things are rigged to cheat people out of their money? Jeez…and you wonder why Dad wouldn't take you to Las Vegas in the past."

"But, Sam—" Dean started, and then gave up. It wouldn't be of any use to argue with his brother, and Dean knew Sam would just stick to his answer. "Just let me have a couple bucks. You don't have to give me all your money."

"You have money, Dean. You can gamble your money," Sam insisted.

Dean winced, grumbling, "But I don't want to."

"Then you don't gamble."

The cars started moving slowly again.

"Fine," Dean muttered.

* * *

Dean managed to crawl out of the extremely backed-up traffic, finding a motel on the outskirts of the city, beyond the heart of Las Vegas where all the flashy casinos and over-priced hotels were situated. As soon as he paid for the room, he turned to Sam, dumping the luggage at his feet as well as the room key. 

"I'll be back in…hell, I'll be back whenever I win lots of money. Don't invite girls over without me being there," he called over his shoulder as he got into the van. With an uneasy feeling Sam watched Dean drive the van out of the parking lot, tires squealing on the pavement, leaving black residue on the gray asphalt.

"I should've gone with him," Sam murmured.

After he got settled in the motel room, he decided to take a break. He managed to hail down a taxi that took him to a bar, where, the atmosphere was impenetrable with cigar smoke and deafening with shouts from drunken people, Sam enjoyed a few shots of liquor and karaoke songs.

"Wasn't that just good? Let's give a round of applause for Randy."

Sam almost laughed. No one applauded (except for the drunk couple in the corner of the room).

"And now here are a trio of very special girls who will be, unfortunately, singing a Britney Spears song. Now if you excuse me I'll go hide in the back room."

Sam, having the unfortunate position right next to the stage and, therefore, getting a blast of the Britney Spears song in his ear, managed to hear the announcer walk off the stage, muttering under his breath.

"Can you believe these people?"

Sam was aware the announcer just sat down next to him on a barstool.

"It's all pop songs and rap songs and junk…"

"You sound like my brother," Sam commented, laughing, throwing back a shot. He turned to look at the announcer, whose green skin and red-rimmed horns were an alarming contrast to the dark, dimly lit bar. "Of course, the resemblance is a bit off

The announcer laughed. "I'm Lorne."

"Sam."

They shook hands.

"So what brings you out here, Sam?"

Sam shrugged, not wanting to talk to a complete stranger whose name was Lorne, and whose skin was green, but he didn't have anything better to do. "We're just traveling. Me and my brother."

"Traveling, huh?" A second passed. Lorne leaned toward Sam. "You're more than just traveling, it seems to me."

"And why do you think that?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows at Lorne's ominous statement.

"I get this vibe. This dark vibe about you and it ain't all sunshine and daisies, my friend. It's dark. It's black and blood red. You're after something. You lost something."

Sam drowned another shot of liquor. "And how do you know that? I mean, maybe I just lost my dog and I'm trying to find him."

Lorne shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sammy, but this something you lost was close to you, I bet."

Sam glanced at Lorne for a quick second before flicking his eyes away from the green face.

"Want to tell me about it?"

Sam shook his head. "It's private."

"And what about your brother? How's he dealing with it?"

"Not at all well," Sam said. He pushed away the empty shot glass, not keen on filling up on too much alcohol. "He thinks he can just hide behind the…his humor. Pretend that everything is okay and all.

"But I know he isn't. He isn't okay at all. He's…he's just suffering and…" Sam shook his head. "I don't know. He's just so guarded."

"Sounds like someone I know."

Sam grinned slightly. "Whose that?"

"Oh, he was…special. He was sort of like my boss. And he was so guarded he wouldn't tell anyone about what plagued him. Which would kill some in the end, but him? Angel was just protective. He didn't like getting close to people and losing them."

"Sounds very much like Dean," Sam agreed.

"Maybe we should introduce them to each other," Lorne suggested, his lips forming a grin. "What could hurt?"

"End up sharing their feelings."

"The better thing for both of them to do," Lorne acknowledged. "You know what you should do?"

"What?"

"Talk to your brother."

Sam snorted, amused. "I would, but I just told you, he won't talk or…or…he'll only make jokes. It's not like he's going to cry or share his feelings. Heck, he also hates chick flick moments, as he puts it so mildly now and then."

"Just bring it up," Lorne said. "Bring it up, and see where it takes you. Because if he continues living in misery alone, then he'll very well die. No one can live with that much pain."

"You get your Ph.D. in psychology?"

"Well," Lorne drawled, chuckling, "I didn't go to college."

"Then what kind of a person are you, giving advice to a complete stranger?"

"The problem is"—Lorne stood up, patting Sam on the shoulder and walking away—"I'm not exactly a person. Have a good night."

Sam looked after the retreating figure, eyebrows creased. "Okay."

* * *

Sam returned to the motel room a quarter after one in the morning, finding Dean on the bed, drowsily taking off his shoes. 

"Have a good night, Dean?" Sam asked, heading to the bathroom and closing the door to change.

"And don't you know it!"

Sam cringed at Dean's slurred words.

"There was this beautiful girl…and her…" Dean whistled. "They probably import all waitresses here from LA or somethin'!"

Sam slipped on some sweats and an oversized, paint splattered t-shirt that had once been Dean's, and walked out of the bathroom. "It's free." _Of course, you'd probably not make it,_ he thought, walking to his bed at the far end of the room.

"And the women…" Dean whistled again. "And the drinks…"

"Dean, want me to drive tomorrow morning?"

Dean looked up, his eyelids drooping as he tried desperately hard to stay awake. He gave Sam a confused, puppy-dog look. "Wha'?"

Sam couldn't help but grin. "I think I will. So how much money did you win? Or lose?" _Or maybe he didn't gamble at all if the women were as great as he says they were._

"I didn't gamble, Sammy. But I did win."

"That's great, Dean." Sam flicked the lights off, getting into bed as Dean moaned about how he was blind. "Try not to throw up, all right?"

Dean muttered something under his breath that Sam wasn't interested to know, and then asked, "How was your night?"

"Ah…" Sam raked his brain, trying to remember what had happened. It seemed like it took place a year ago. "I met someone. We talked, him and I."

"Did you hit on him?"

"What?"

Dean started laughing, so Sam took his pillow and threw it at the dark figure, which shut him up for good.

"Grow up."

"I'm just kidding, Sammy."

Sam sighed. He decided to change the subject and asked, "So tomorrow we go back to Bobby's?"

"Might as well. I can't see any reason to stay in Las Vegas any longer."

"What? You don't want to see any more scantily clad women prance around and wait on you, hand and foot?"

"Nah." Dean sighed. "It got a bit old for a while, and plus I lost all my money."

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"You want to talk about Dad?"

"What about him?"

Sam hesitated, thinking for a minute before saying, "His death?"

"Not tonight, Sammy."

Silence.

"Okay," Sam said quietly. "Good night, Dean."

"Good night, Sam."

-


End file.
